How We Became Overwatch
by friendofthequn
Summary: A collection of scenes showing how various agents of Overwatch joined up.


No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy. Jack Morrison knew this. He remembered his very first mission, how he'd spent hours going through enemy intel and maps and strategies until the thought of going into combat didn't make him nauseous, and how the confidence and assuredness he'd gained had vanished the moment he heard the sound of gunfire. Every mission since then, there'd always been that moment of panic when the opposition turned from numbers on a screen to actual enemies capable of killing them all if they made the slightest mistake. Those moments had become shorter and shorter as he'd gotten more experience, but they were still there.

This marked the first time it had happened outside of combat.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remember any of the ideas he'd written down earlier. He knew he should have brought cue cards- no, he shouldn't have, he made the right call. This was not the kind of speech you wanted to be reading off a cheat-sheet. The battle plan was blown, best to discard it and start improvising.

He breathed out and opened eyes, making eye contact with the three people sitting across from him. Inspirational speeches were hardly his specialty, but he knew that making a connection with your audience was important. It was also a stalling tactic he could use while he tried to come up with a good opening line. First there was Ana Amari, back straight, hands folded primly in her lap, gaze calculating but not hostile. She was the one that worried Jack the most, but she'd surprised him many times before. Then there was Torbjörn Lindholm, whose downward gaze suggested he was reading something under the table. The blatant show of disinterest was a touch disconcerting, but Jack knew he'd have his attention again as soon as he said the word 'omnics'. Finally, Reinhardt Wilhelm, looking even more giant than usual in contrast to the almost dwarfish Torbjörn and lithe Ana, a good-natured smile on his face. If Jack couldn't convince Reinhardt, there was definitely something very wrong with his speaking skills.

Someone kicked him underneath the table. Suppressing a wince, he looked to the source out of the corner of his eye. Gabe was staring straight ahead, arms folded across his chest, expression completely devoid of guilt, but his finger was tapping impatiently against his forearm. Jack took the hint and cleared his throat. _Here goes nothing._ "You're all probably wondering why I asked you to come here. Well, the answer is quite simple. We've all been on the front lines. We've seen what the omnics are capable of." Sure enough, Torbjörn's head rose slightly. "We all know that if the war goes on like this, a pyrrhic victory is the absolute best-case scenario. Something has to change. That's where we come in." He paused, gauging their reactions. Ana's gaze had intensified to the point that Jack wouldn't be surprised if she could see straight into his mind, Torbjörn was giving him his full attention, and Reinhardt was grinning as if he already knew what was coming. Jack pressed on. "I've seen all of you in action, and I can say without a doubt that you are the finest soldiers I've ever had the honor of fighting with. Ana, people still don't believe me when I tell them how you landed a headshot on that omnic commander from almost two miles away." The Egyptian smirked ever so slightly. "Reinhardt, I lost track of the number of times I thought you were dead, only for you to get up without a scratch at around twenty-seven." Reinhardt let out a hearty chuckle. "Torbjörn, sometimes I don't know whether to be more scared of the omnics or the inventions you cook up." Torbjörn smiled, but he shifted uncomfortably and Jack worried that he'd pushed the wrong button. _Too late to stop now, just keep going and hope it doesn't bite you in the ass._ He turned to his left. "And Gabe. The best testament to your skill is that our bosses are willing to pay a fortune replacing all those guns you throw away because you can't be bothered to reload."

Gabe rolled his eyes. "Thanks. So what's so special about you?"

"Me?" That wrenched Jack completely off the rails he had been hastily assembling. He hadn't thought about that. _Improvise, Morrison, improvise._ "I can't say I'm the greatest soldier that ever lived, but I'm pretty damn good at what I do. And I seem to be the only one who thinks we can actually win this war in a way that actually feels like winning." He turned back to the others. "On our own, each of us is a thorn in the omnics' sides. If we worked together, we could be the bullet that goes through their cold, metal heart." He waited for a response. When the others remained silent, he realized they thought he was going to continue. Too bad for them, he'd run out of ideas. "Any questions?"

Gabe raised his hand. "Yes. How do you think five people are going to defeat a goddamn army?"

Jack pushed down a sigh. _I heard once that best friends are supposed to be supportive. Looks like somebody didn't get the memo._ "Obviously, it's not just going to be us. Everyone-" He stopped, mentally kicking himself for forgetting such an important point. "The people… what they need is hope. We don't have to destroy ever omnic on the face of the planet ourselves, but if the world sees us succeed again and again and again, they'll remember when they believed we could win this war, and they'll fight harder than ever."

Reinhardt nodded. "An army without hope has already lost. We all need some heroes right about now. Where do I sign up?"

Torbjörn grinned. "Now that's an excellent question. Those metal bastards won't know what hit them."

Ana heaved a sigh. "I am compelled by both peer pressure and the need for strong female role models to agree." She raised an eyebrow at Gabe. "I bet you're loving the whole 'hero' idea, Reyes."

"It's a dream come true," Gabe deadpanned. "But seriously, someone has to make sure Morrison doesn't die of that damn bleeding heart of his."

Jack got to his feet. "Then it's decided. Overwatch is ready for action!" Gabe facepalmed.

Torbjörn frowned. "Overwatch?"

"That's what he wants to call us," Gabe explained. "Overwatch."

"It's a bit… Orwellian, don't you think?" said Ana.

"I think it's an excellent name!" said Reinhardt.

"Can't think of a better one," said Torbjörn. "It'll do for now."

"I've got a list of suggestions for better ones," said Gabe.

"Gabe, I saw that list. Those are the names a college student gives his heavy metal band, not a strike team," said Jack. "Overwatch it is, then. We can change it if someone comes up with one we all agree is better."

They never did.


End file.
